Guardians of the Lords
by Anyelse
Summary: (Big Four) Our story began not in a mountain city nor the death of a beloved king nor the appearance of a man clothed in shadows. Our story began ... well, it began as you might expect. It began in a hole in the ground.


**.o.O. **_**Prologue**_** .O.o.**

Long ago, in a better time, there was a kingdom bathed in glory.

The great dwarf kingdom of Berk and its sister kingdom of Dunbroch lived in the peace and harmony of each other. In the shade of the Lonely Mountain, the kingdom of dwarves and men prospered. The men trading and farming, feeding the great cities of the Midlands; their skill with animals allowing them to tame the great steeds that roamed across the planes, bringing herds of noble beasts to further the wealth of the two kingdoms. The dwarves meanwhile mined the valuable resources inside the mountain, using the minerals they found to fuel the great machines made by their crafters and inventors.

Together, through their alliance the two great peoples helped each other weather through their burdens. Their combined kingdoms created a great and powerful nation.

But where there is power, there is greed.

In the Lonely Mountain, the dwarves chipped and hollowed out the great stone. Deeper and deeper they dug until they found the very heart of the mountain. A rock that glimmered with the light of a star, a sacred stone, it dawned a new age for the twin kingdoms.

The dwarfish lords took the appearance of the Mountain's Star to be a sacred sign. "Our kingdom is divine." They declared, "We were appointed by the gods to rule the lands justly and fairly." They built mighty cities, improving their own great nation; the hollow shell of the Lonely Mountain became the seat of the greatest dwarf city in Middle Earth. Not forgetting their allies, the kingdom of Berk built walls and fortresses around the borders of both kingdoms, protecting each other to guard a peace expected to last generations.

And so there would've been, were it not for a small twist of fate.

The high king of Dunbroch had three sons, each with their own strengths and talents. The eldest was a warrior, an experienced soldier with a strong arm and a stronger will. The second son was a scholar, fluent in many languages and an excellent diplomat. The last son was a fool, more like to wander after faeries and wisps then he was to rule. Though simple, he was loved by man and beast, making him one of the greatest horsemen in the kingdom.

It was always expected that the eldest son was to rule. He had the will of a king and the strength of ten. He had never lost a battle in his short life; the mere mention of his name on the battle field would send weapons down in surrender. His entire life was spent expecting that when the time came, he would replace his father as the high chieftain of the clans.

So it was a shock to all, when the aging king whispered on his dying breath, that it would be the second son and not the first who would wear his crown. He died with a sigh.

At first the elder brother was not bitter. He was never angry when the dwarf kingdom showered his younger brother in wealth and congratulations. He was patient when the young king issued him commands. He kept his silence as his king signed alliances and treaties with the dwarves, and entertained the great elves of the forest. He said nothing when his brother married his betrothed, seeing nothing when the maid he thought he would marry was given to another. He became a silent, obedient soldier; the most loyal guard of the king's blood.

Yet over time, a darkness born of jealousy and envy grew in the soldier's heart. Until one day after an argument, matters forgotten to time, he stormed out of the castle head held high as his mount charged underneath him. He rode out of the High City, past farms and fields until he was completely and utterly alone on the borders of Dunbroch.

There are creatures that lurk in the darkness, as they are made of the dark themselves. Made of the very worst in our world, darkness that creeps and crawls; teasing shadows that flit in the corners of our eyes when awake, and gleefully dance through our nightmares when we are not. Shadowed claws and gleaming eyes, they watched the soldier leave Dunbroch attracted to him by the dark thoughts taking root in his soul. They followed him as he rode through their domain.

It was not long before the creeping shadows and fears were seen by the soldier. He was not afraid, so far gone in his dark thoughts as he was, his soul was nearly as dark as his companion's. And there suddenly _was_ a companion. A dark man, the shadows wrapped around him like a cloak, grey-gold eyes glinting over a sharp-toothed smile. He watched the angry man and followed him deeper into the forest.

We may never know what was said or done in the shadows. What promises, what threats, what pleads were made? It shall never be known, those secrets are now lost to the dark and in the dark they shall remain. All that is known was that the soldier came out a changed man, wielding a dark force that ended one kingdom and crippled the other.

Both were lost to the shadows, and the beasts that live within their borders to this day. The Hollow Mountain now stands truly hollow, its great dwarfish city now empty. The fields around the cities now grow choked with weeds and the forests become great and dark. Within them the shadows dance.

'What happened to the twin kingdoms?' You ask, 'How could such a mighty twin empire have been torn asunder? The people dead or dying, the cities crumbling or ash, the farms and fields now home to the darkest creatures in our world? What happened to Berk? What happened to Dunbroch? What happened to the three brothers, the soldier, the scholar and the fool?'

Patience; all will be answered in good time. You will learn as I did the fate of the two nations and how they were lost to shadows. But my story didn't begin there.

No my story didn't begin in a mountain city, where a king succumbed to the sickness of the mind. My story doesn't begin when the death of a beloved king sews the seeds of treachery in his heir's heart. My story won't begin with the promises of a man made of shadows whose actions are as soft as a butterfly's winged beat. No, our story began as you might expect.

It began in a hole in the ground.

Not a wet, muddy burrow where the worms and moles hide. No, this was a hobbit hole, and was furnished as such with warm plastered walls and wooden floors under the curved ceiling. It is dry and warm, buried in the heart of a hill. The round windows to match the circular doors flood light into the homey interior. It beams in a bright butter yellow on the hanging china plates and the overstuffed armchairs. Bookshelves notched into the curved walls hold a collection of handsomely bound books while hand-made doilies rest under vases of wildflowers lending their sweet scent into the air.

In the kitchen, there is a large fire place, for a hobbit, where a kettledrum for cooking hangs above the fire. Hooked around the fireplace are pots and pans, hanging ready for use to serve the five main meals of the day. The frying pan is missing from its hook and on the wooden counter lies a half chopped onion for a small afternoon stew. These are important details, as when our story began, the frying pan was not in the kitchen, where it should've been frying the onion to draw out the flavor. (Also an important detail, not nearly enough people cook stew properly and if there's one thing you must learn dear reader, it's how to prepare afternoon stew)

Instead the frying pan was in the living room, held by a young hobbit trembling with fear and not a little courage. Here our heroine steps into the story, bravely wielding her weapon in trembling hands. White knuckled grip displaying determination and strength.

Her name was Rapunzel.

And as she poked the foot of an unconscious thief, she had unknowingly thrown herself into very serious trouble.

**.o.O. **_**Author's Note**_** .O.o.**

_So, this is what happens when I go away for a brief holiday and get involved in a 'Lord of the Rings' marathon with my cousins. Mix that with a little idea stewing in my brain since I began writing again. Add a little pinch of realization that we have 'Harry Potter' AUs, 'Hunger Games' AUs, High School AUs even a Sci-Fi AU but no 'Lord of the Rings' AUs._

_Stir, then whisk briskly when the author realizes that it's nearly the end of the summer, and they'll be starting college soon, (hopefully) and you get a stinky little brainfart, known as 'Guardians of the Lords.' (Because I really could not think of a better title)_

_Meh ... Now it's done, I'm just gonna' post it, see what the feed-back is and continue with 'A Potteriffic AU' but not tonight. Tonight, I recover from the awesomeness that is 'the Lord of the Rings.'_

_Until next time,_

_Anyelse_

_P.S. If you want a continuation, tell me what you think. *nudges readers toward the review button*_


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